Midnight Man
by LePipi
Summary: When Bobby sent Dean off to work for a friend, help him calm down and such, he didn't expect to be met with a turbulence of events. In all of his blissful unawareness, an undercurrent of a reality he'd rather not know lays just beneath the surface.
1. Chapter 1

Midnight Man

Dean wasn't a man easily frightened or even intimidated.

Living in Kansas, caring alone for your little brother while your dad was doing business God knows where, had toughened him up, molded him strong.

He'd had a fair share of bar fights, a stab wound or two, seen people on the streets in the most ungodly acts, hung out with people of said streets, lost friends and lovers, came, saw and conquered every imaginable obstacle in life.

Knowing the given facts about himself, being afraid at this moment really didn't make sense.

Sure, the garage looked like a rundown warehouse, but every garage looks dirty and forgotten. If it doesn't, then somebody's doing something wrong there.

Maybe it had something to do with this particular, never-before heard of part of Louisiana. Dean had spent a good hour driving around the road, lost and frustrated with a map spread wide in his lap. He took pride in knowing his country, took pride in his instinct for finding places and roads. He was surprised and a little mad at himself for getting lost. The map honestly didn't make sense, all those scribbled, crossed lines pointing to little red dots nowhere near his destination.

He could have gone to Texas, could have found a steady job. He'd always wanted to settle down there, kinda like a wistful cowboy dream he'd had since always.

Just him, his Impala, a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Jack, sunglasses over his eyes, burning sun as he works in some bar or garage, let loose in the night, go back to a bachelor's apartment. Living the life, eh?

But no, trust Bobby to ruin a young boy's dream.

'Go to Louisiana boy, there's a small town there with a good friend of mine, he needs help with his garage, you'll get a paycheck and he'll keep you clean.'

Like he needs help keeping clean.

He's not fifteen anymore, he can hold his own.

He's a grown man, twenty-six at that, and if booze and sex is what he aims for then so be it.

'Sam is growing up, Dean. He's in college now and you can't hold him back, not after how hard you worked to get him there. Get yourself straightened up, fresh air and hard work'll do ya good.'

Fresh air his balls.

He stood before the Impala, shivering into the cold night, his breath coming in visible white puffs.

The whole place had a sinister look to it. The garage was nestled in the middle of the lone highway, surrounded by a wild bundle of wintergreen trees, reaching high into the sky and far into the land.

Who the fuck builds a garage in the middle of the forest?

A sharp wave of ice cold wind grazed his nose. He pulled his father's jacket tighter around his shaking frame, burying his face as best as he could in its lapels.

As soon as the wind started to sound like voices to him, Dean decided that the long drive, nicotine and coldness took its tool on him and it was time to face the music.

He walked across the gravel path, the scrunch of stone against his boots echoed around the silence of the forest. The sound of a tire falling down had him on alert.

Everything felt a little too much like a Twilight Zone episode.

He was just waiting for a creepy puppet to start steering his head at him.

He cautiously (although unnecessarily), stepped around the garage to a light behind it.

The light came from a small house a few feet away from it.

The house too looked unkempt, much like Bobby's cabin of a home.

Inside probably awaited a grisly looking guy, just like him. But with longer beard and a crazed look in his eye. He'd even have a bear's head hung on his wall somewhere.

He trudged closer, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He carefully climbed up the small porch where a plastic lounge chair covered with a dark, green, wool blanket was seated under a dim bulb, little fleas gathered around it.

Well, here it goes.

He searched shortly for a bell, and settled for knocking.

He felt more anxious than ever.

He didn't know if he just wanted the man to open the freakin' door, or just run to his car, drive away and never look back.

This place spelled trouble, and Dean always found a way to it.

Finally, he heard a shuffle of feet, a few clinking noises which must have been keys turning, and just when he'd thought he'd been off the hook, it turned out the man just opened his fly screen door.

And even though his vision was fuzzy from the glass pane over the wooden door he could see the man that was to be his new boss.

Definitely wasn't expecting _that_.

The man stood silent, eyes unblinking as he stared right back at Dean, a passive expression of warning on his stone cold face.

"Yes?" –The man finally spoke, voice deep and gravely, like he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Ah, I'm Dean. Bobby sent me. To work."- Dean mumbled quickly, remembering where he was and what his cause was.

The sound of crickets was the only noise for a while as the man continued to stare.

"Aren't you gonna, let me in? Or something? I just got here, man, I'm not- I have no idea where to go..." –This definitely wasn't how it was supposed to go. Guy was supposed to be a big lumberjack and then smile and laugh when he'd hear Bobby's name, welcome him in, seat him down for a beer and tell him stories of all the wolves he's killed.

Not stare at him like the freakin' 'Children Of The Corn'.

As the man moved to open the door, Dean yelped at the movement. It was like watching a stone statue suddenly begin to walk.

The guy didn't react to Dean's obvious embarrassment and held open the door with a step to the side, implying he were to come in.

Dean opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to speak, and just settled for brushing his shoes on the bland door mat that said 'Wipe Your Paws' with little paw prints next to it. Cute.

He stepped into the narrow hallway of the door being careful to avoid the steel gaze of his future boss.

"So, uh, take my boots off?" –He finally picked up the courage to turn to the man, and just then realized the necessity for personal space.

Because if the guy had a hard gaze before, this was unreal.

Seeing much clearer without the obstruction of glass, he could give the guy a good once-over.

The man wore a white tank top, revealing bruised muscles over his arms that left a question. He had a scrawny look about him, but his presence felt much bigger and powerful. He was clearly unshaven, days worth of stubble, hair a messy disarray, stained and ripped sweatpants over bare feet. Without that rough edge, Dean was sure the guy would look more fitting in an office suit, typing away in a cubicle.

But, what stood him out the most were his eyes.

Blue, like a Siberian husky, clear and guarded.

Again the guy didn't talk, just nodded with a slight incline, his eyes never dropping from his own.

Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was intimidating as hell.

He bent down awkwardly, almost bumping his head against the man's knee. His jaw twitched with the need to yell at the guy, ask him if he can actually see with his eyes or just keeps on staring for the hell of it, but, he kept him mouth shut.

He needed to remember he had no place to go, it was already deep night, he hadn't gotten any sleep and there was no way he was sleeping in his car in the midst of a town notorious for its wildlife.

He unlaced his boots as quickly as he could, straightened up to chuck them off, casting his eyes in question towards the other man.

Again, silent guy just nodded his head to follow him and continued his way down the narrow hall, past what Dean saw was a small kitchen, and straight to something akin to a living room.

Dean had to admit it felt cozy, in a cabin sort of way.

There was a beat up rug that might have been cream a long time ago, with weird patterns of yellow, brown and green. At the far wall, under a small window, sat a reddish brown couch with a chucked out piece at the arm, revealing yellow foam. In front of it was placed a round coffee table, a book downturned over it, the words 'Anastasia' stood out on the cover, some playing cards scattered around, an empty mug of what must have been coffee and a full ashtray next to it.

Dean looked around himself admiring the room, while the guy gestured with his hand to sit on the couch. He had his eyes on the big bookshelf that seemed to dominate the room, filled to the brim with books.

He sat himself gingerly, still not at ease, feeling the couch practically swallow him, giving a sharp squeak as he felt the strings pressure.

Silent guy gave him a sharp look before he turned his attention to the slowly dwindling flames in the fireplace, grabbing a poker to stir the wood until it gave a spark.

Finally, he took a place on the wooden armchair across from Dean, laid his arms on the armrests and just, _stared_.

And he kept on _staring._

Dean finally couldn't keep up and decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

"So, uh, you have a dog?" –He tried for a safe topic, and that was the only thing on the top of his head.

"What makes you think that?" –He speaks! Praised be his vocal chords!

"Ah, your doormat. With the paws and everything." –Dean made a weak hand gesture as he explained himself.

"You're very observant, aren't you?" –The guy said without a hint of a smile, his face still stone cold. He didn't know if he was mocked or anything, guy didn't give any tips through his voice or facial expressions.

"So, do you?" –The awkwardness of the situation was basically palpable, hanging heavy in the air between the two men.

"Yes, I do." –The guy wasn't even trying, and Dean was giving his all to make conversation. Just, wasn't fair.

"Breed? Name?" –Dean was giving up by this point.

"Rottweiler. Dylan." –Silent guy said with a slight tone of pride in his voice, and he probably wouldn't have noticed it if he weren't so tuned in with every slight movement he made.

"And your name?" –Dean asked with a small smile, trying to show this guy that he was willing to play nice.

"Castiel." –Weird ass name. But eh, everything about the guy was weird, his name was his least problem.

"Ok, Castiel. Name's Dean." –He said with an offered hand, opting to not give any comment that might shake the careful balance he was building here.

Castiel eyed his hand, no indication on his feelings on the matter, instead he arched forward in his chair to return the gesture, giving him a strong grip in a firm handshake. They were getting somewhere here.

"So, uh, what are we doing here? How is this gonna work?" –Dean spoke after another silent pause, disturbed only be the unnerving ticking of a clock somewhere near.

"First, you will not be staying here." –Castiel spoke, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I will drive you to a cabin I used to use, ten minute drive from here. You will come to work, starting tomorrow, at seven AM sharp. The rent you will be paying me I will deduct from your paycheck." –The man finished with a satisfactory nod of his head, as if this is really, honestly all there is to it.

"And, that's all?" –Dean spread his hands in a gesture of 'come on, man'.

"Right now, it is." –Castiel said in a self-explanatory way.

Ok, ok, if this is how he liked to play so be it. Dean can be cold and distant too.

"So, we're going?" –Dean stood from his seat, mimicking the passive expression on the other man's face.

Dean felt an odd sense of triumph at the raised eyebrows he received. Suck on that, boss-man.

"Suppose we are." –Castiel said whilst taking a stand himself, leading the way outside.

-/-

"No way are you driving my car." –Dean said with an exaggerated tone of warning. Seems he wasn't really good at keeping the passive role.

"I'm the only one who knows the way to the cabin, and I know how to drive on these roads better than you. Don't underestimate me."- And that's the most words Castiel had uttered in the entire time they spent in each others presence. Because the word 'together' would be misused, as while Dean was trying to make conversation, Castiel seemed to be on a whole different planet.

"No, don't underestimate _me_. I've been in charge of this baby for most of my life, and I don't let anyone, not just you, I mean a_nyone_ drive her." –Dean knew this was a bad idea, getting in a fight with your boss, on what was, basically your interview, but screw it. Nobody will stand in the way of him and baby.

"Most of your life, which is, approximately sixteen years, judging by the way you are referring to the car by gender." –Castiel said ever calmly, though his frown seemed to deepen.

"Can't you just, take _your_ car and drive ahead, while I follow?" –Why Dean hadn't thought of this before was lost on him. How was the guy even supposed to get back without a car, was also lost.

Castiel's jaw clenched, and even in the darkness of the night he could see it. He couldn't put two and two together, everything that was Castiel, was one messy bundle of crazy.

Instead he turned on mute again and just nodded, making his way to the garage.

-/-

Fuck, this was gonna be awful.

Dean made his way out of the car, and really, that was no cabin. It was a freakin' shed. For chickens.

The whole wooden structure looked like it would turn to dust in a single touch.

"Dude, seriously?" –Dean turned to his boss with a pleading tone to his voice.

"You have a bed, a kitchen and bathroom. You have water and electricity. You don't need for more." –Castiel said with a stilted voice and turned back to his truck, leaving Dean with his mouth hung open, ready to drop the swear-bomb.

In the end, as Castiel's truck trailed off, he gave a defeated sigh and went to his from-now-on home.

-/-

His first day in the 'chicken coop', because there was not a more elegant way to put it, was, mildly said, dreadful.

He spent the entire night twisting and turning in his bed, gripping the sheets and punching the pillow to make himself comfortable. Everything was just so stiff, and rough, worse than a motel room, and he'd been in enough to speak the truth. The wool of the blankets scratched his skin, but when he tried sleeping without them, the cold seemed to bide at his body.

He tried rummaging through the small kitchen in search of food, to settle his frustration, but all he found was a can of beans and molded bread.

He ended up outside, sitting on the step in front of his door, smoking away a whole pack as he waited for dawn. The night passed with cold, whistling wind and howling wolves throughout the woods.

There were no snarling animals, no sounds of quick movement through the bushes, only the lonely howling.

Finally, as the sun broke and Dean checked his phone for the time ( he was going to need to charge his battery), he decided it was time to go, maybe finally get to talk to Castiel or his co-workers, ask what's there to do in this town.

-/-

As he pulled over, he saw that three men were already sitting in front of the garage, two of them on green, camping chairs and one on a tire.

He walked over to them and felt the uncomfortable feeling of having all eyes on you. Still, he tried smiling approachably, and when he saw they were actually brewing coffee his smile turned real.

"Hey. Name's Dean." –He said with a smile and offered his hand to the man in front of him in the little circle they had formed.

"Chuck." –The squirrely dude said with a slight tremble in his shaking hand that Dean gripped.

"Ash" –The guy on the tire said with confidence as he too took his hand, and really, how can you sound so self-important with a mullet?

"Adam." –The kid looked young, like just-attended-prom young. And really, only sixteen year olds can sound _that_ pissy when meeting someone.

"Nice meeting ya."- Dean said with a somewhat lost smile, unsure of his next step.

"Grab him a seat, Ash." –Chuck's words were all it took to break the ice.

"So, how did you even get the job? I mean, it's not like Cas put ads in the papers, or something." –Adam spoke after a while of sitting together, drinking coffee and chatting.

Kid was nice. Cautious, but nice.

"Ah, Bobby, a friend of my dad's got me here. Little brother went to college, dad off to work, and, I guess I went a little wild."- He felt at ease speaking with these men, letting a morose chuckle escape through his lips. " Sent me here to calm down, something like that." –He finished with a little nod.

"I swear, Cas just picks up strays on purpose. Ya didn't even bring a resume, did ya?" – Ash gave an exaggerated sigh, giving the other men a look like it was an inside joke.

"No, I didn't." –Dean spoke with a quizzical look. He wasn't getting the 'strays' part.

"Cas, uh, he hired us, kn-knowing we had problems. _Have_ problems..."- Chuck said with a slight twitch, taking a big gulp of his coffee.

"Ex-con." –Ash said with a pointed finger at his chest.

"Ex-drunk." –He turned the finger at Chuck, who seemed to spasm at the uttered word.

"High school drop-out." –He ended with Adam who glared at him over his steaming cup.

"Well, uh, we got something in common there, Adam." –Dean tried covering his surprise with a joke, not wanting to make the men uncomfortable with his bafflement.

Adam gave a slight twitch of a smile, which set Dean at ease.

The guys seemed to approve of the way Dean handled the new information, at which Ash continued speaking.

"I used to copy some government documents, hacked their websites, e-mails and what-not. Found a couple'a nudes too! But, got caught, found my IP address, even though I used like, a thousand proxies, and eh, rest is history." –Ash spoke with a tone of sadness, like he went back in time to a place long-forgotten, or at least tried to keep it that way.

"Served my time, and came here, get away from old memories. Found Cas, was honest about everything, and he just, he didn't comment on anything. Just asked me if I'm still going about it, said fuck no, and gave me the job. Easy as that." –Ash finished with raised eyebrows, implying he found his own story unbelievable.

Dean responded in kind, his surprise evident in his own expression.

"I came here to write. After I-I divorced. It was... A tough time for me. Found this place and came to apply. Cas, he, he immediately knew something was wrong with me. I tried denying it, but, you can't hide from, Cas, man." –Chuck said with a tone of disgust, like the mere idea to lie to Cas ( Dean still found the way they seemed to use a nickname for their boss weird) insulted him personally.

"I admitted I was an... alcoholic. He told me as long as I came sober to work, no hangover either, he would take me. Haven't touched a drop since then." –Chuck finished with a small smile of pride, which made Dean smile fully. He couldn't help but feel glad for the complete stranger he was growing fond of.

"Adam's a daddy's boy." –Ash said with a laugh, prompting Adam to give his own side.

"Shut up, Ash." –Again, the boy glared daggers into the other man.

"It's cool, if you don't wanna talk." –Dean tried giving the boy the exit. If he didn't want to talk, he shouldn't. Dean was just glad that he could make friends with these people, who were open about their troubles and experience to him.

Adam gave Dean a look of thanks, a small smile of relief to go with it.

"So, Dean! Now that we've established you're cool, you have the right and privilege to refer to me as Doctor Badass." –Ash said with a tone of accomplishment, like he'd just gave a speech in the White House.

"Yeah, not gonna happen, Mullet." –Dean shook his head with a laugh.

"I like him." –Chuck said with a smile towards Ash, who just stared dumbfounded at Dean, like it was utterly unacceptable to decline his offer.

Just as Ash and Chuck started bickering, while Adam and Dean watched with amusement, a door slam was heard.

All the men stopped to turn their attention to the house behind.

Castiel walked out, passing the stairs in a hurry and towards his truck. He did look a bit more polished than last night. That is, as polished as a garage-running boss, can look. He wore a simple white t-shirt with jeans and working boots.

"Hey, Cas!" –Ash, ever cheerful, yelled from where they were all sitting, waving a hand with a smile towards the other man.

Castiel's head arched up from where it was concentrated on a ring of keys, giving everyone a look over, and settled his eyes over Dean. He couldn't explain that rush that ran through him at the eye contact.

Castiel quickly averted his eyes and set them on Ash.

"Get to work, slackers!" –He shouted, his voice demanding, but a good natured smile appeared, just as he got into his car.

Everyone waved him off as he steered away from the garage and onto the road.

Dean still couldn't wrap his mind around him. His experience from last night told him that this guy was nothing better than an asshole, though he couldn't voice this to the men. The way they spoke of him was full of awe and gratitude. He couldn't get how this man could make such a good impression on them, whereas he left Dean feeling like a jackass.

"Any input on Cas, guys? I mean, I didn't really get to talk to him last night. I just got here." –Dean quickly tried to cover for himself. He was curious, and he wanted more about this guy, without letting on his bad opinion about him.

"Cas is great, man. Great boss, all around great guy." –Ash nodded his head along his words, lighting up a cigarette in the process.

"He seemed kinda cold to me." –Dean spoke quietly, grabbing himself a cigarette from his dwindling pack. He was going to have to find a shop somewhere around here. Soon.

"He's very private about his life. He might seem distant, but, he's been very good to all of us." –Chuck said with a nod to Ash in agreement. The guys spoke of him like some demi-God , or something.

"Wife, kids?" –He knew he was pushing it, but he also knew he wasn't going to be getting any answers from the man himself.

"Nada. There was this one woman, years ago, and a guy after that. Haven't seen anyone after them." –Ash was the one to speak once again, puffing the smoke through his nostrils, at which he was given a disgusted look by Chuck.

Ah, well this was interesting news.

"So, he's bi?" –Dean quipped, the smoke gushing out through his words.

"Man, I don't even know if he's s_exual_. After her, he was just... It was awful, man." –Ash's brows furrowed in defiance.

"Ash."- Adam directed with warning.

"He's ok, Adam. I mean, you're not gonna be an asshole about this, D-Dean?" –Chuck asked with a slight tone of hope in his voice, like he wanted to trust Dean.

"Hey, I'm nobody to judge. Fooled around with women, men and have a whole record of bad relationships. 'M not a hypocrite." –And it was true. It was funny how easy it was to voice these things to these men, when he'd had so much trouble just admitting them to himself.

"He's cool." –Ash said with a nod to Adam, like they were trying to convince him. Adam just shook his head, but kept quiet as Ash started speaking again.

"So, this woman, her name was Amelia. Guy wasn't the problem, we've only seen him like, once or twice, and then he just disappeared. No biggie. So, Amelia. Real pretty girl, blond hair, all modest and kind. You could tell just by the way he looked at her, he was whipped." –The men chuckled, but ended with a sorrowful note.

"They were together for two years, I think. Cas was real open about her, all smiles and hearts in his eyes when he talked about her. It was, really, the only time Cas was actually open about himself. We all supported them, thought they were great for each other." –Chuck nodded along with a grimace, while Adam gave a snort.

"Then, one night, we were all working here, stuck on this stupid Yugo that hadn't run a mile in a decade... And, from the back we hear shouting and then some smashing, and when we turn to Cas' house, the door slams open, Amelia walks out, yelling and shouting, I hear the words 'freak' and 'sinner', and then, she fucking spits at him! She fucking spit at him! And it's then I see Cas, and he's just standing by the door, and he takes it, man... I'll never forget that... He just, stood, and stared. He wasn't crying, wasn't yelling, wasn't even... I don't know. He had this blank expression on, and when she spit at him, he-he didn't even blink! He stood there, taking it all like he freakin' deserved it..." –Ash made a stop, gulping a big breath of air whilst running a hand over his face.

"I, swear, I have never hit a woman. And to this day I don't know what happened there. But, I do know, for a fuckin' fact, that Cas has never hurt anyone, and he treated Amelia like a goddamn princess! Whatever he did, shared some fuckin' kink or asked for a threesome, I don't know! I know, whatever he did, he didn't deserve the-the stoning he got! And, I was ready, man, blood was rushing, and I was up in a second. And then, Cas just raises his hand in my direction, like 'stop', and he doesn't even look at me. Amelia walks off, takes her car, cussin' him all the way, and storms off. And Cas just walked back in..." –Ash finished with another sigh, his eyes gripped shut at the flooding memories.

"It was the scariest shit I ever saw..." –Adam added through the tense silence that followed.

"I still can't forget it. Cas is... He never de-de-deserved that." –Chuck seemed to be shaking more than before, his eyes wide in horror.

Dean listened in with his brows furrowed, overwhelmed with everything he just heard. He didn't know what to say, what to offer to the grieving friends of his boss.

So, Cas had a bad experience. Scratch that. Awful, traumatizing experience, that even managed to reach to Dean.

He felt rattled by the whole story. Didn't even know what to think of the whole ordeal.

"Fuck her." –The words dropped out of his mouth without a thought.

All eyes turned to give him a startled look.

"Told ya he was cool!" –Ash exclaimed through the stilted silence, and once again everything fell into the little routine of bickering and joking.

-/-

Well into the workday, he got the hang of it.

This was the only garage in their town, so business was actually good. People came with little beat up cars, asked for the most mundane repairs that could be done at home, with freakin' duct tape, but hell, if money was coming then he was working.

They were the only employees, which suited them all well. Chuck also worked the cash register, and Cas did his own accounting.

Dean was currently tuning up a carburetor, lost in the easiness of the job, his fingers trained on the movement, while his mind was elsewhere.

He figured out the 'cold shoulder' thing was Castiel's defense system. He didn't want to get close, and Dean understood that. He didn't want to put himself in the position to get let down by a complete stranger. He didn't want to show him kindness.

So, Dean figured, he was the one that was going to have to gain his trust.

He was the one that was going to put the effort, here.

And, honestly, he found he didn't mind it. In fact, he saw it as a challenge.

"Hey, uh, Dean?" –Adam startled him out of his daze. He turned his attention to the boy, seeing his hands smeared with grease where they fiddled nervously with a wash cloth.

"Yeah?" – He prompted, but Adam seemed to be doubting himself so he tried again.

"Something on your mind?" –He honestly liked the kid. Reminded him of himself in his teens.

"My dad left me. After mom died, he just, couldn't handle me. Got me to Cas and dumped me here. And uh, Cas' making me get a GPA... So, I just thought, I'd share, you know..." –Adam trailed off uncertainly, casting his eyes around the cluttered room.

"I can help you get that GPA." –Dean offered with a smile, gripping the boy's shoulder in assurance.

The hopeful smile that blossomed on Adam's face was answer enough.

-/-

Dean was getting ready to leave for the day. The guys gave him some directions to the nearest shops, nearest liquor store, and even a Wall Mart. Dean was ready to start his car and buy himself a whole store. Or a mall, maybe.

Just as he was reaching for his car, he heard quick shuffling growing nearer and nearer.

Before he could turn to see what was in such a hurry, he was struck against his car by a pair of paws.

He looked down to see a dark Rottweiler wagging its tail in excitement, muzzle open in gulping breaths, tongue stuck out, as he smelled him and flapped its paws over his chest. Damn, Dylan was big.

"Hey, hey, buddy, settle down." –Dean laughed as the dog just wouldn't give up until it was certain he had smelled Dean through.

He cautiously put a hand on the dog's head, and was surprised when it pushed upwards into the touch.

"You're a good boy, arent'cha?" –Dean let a rumble of laughter as he stroked and petted through Dylan's fur. The dog's excitement didn't settle, but he let go of Dean's chest and instead went to circle around him.

He crouched down to play with him, feeling amusement rush through his body. He always liked dogs, always wanted to have one. But eh, life on the road wasn't ideal for having a pet.

Just as the dog had rolled onto his back for Dean to scratch at its belly, another shuffle of feet was heard.

Dylan immediately turned on it's legs, running towards the sound.

Dean looked up to see Castiel, arms full of paper bags as he exited his truck. The dog jumped him and it was a miracle he kept a hold on the groceries.

Dean smiled fully at the sight before him, seeing Castiel stagger as Dylan pushed into his personal space, his cold façade broken as he yelped.

Dean shook his head with a laugh and went to his boss.

"He's a handful, huh?" –He said with a smirk as he cautiously took the bags from Castiel's arms, careful to not squish Dylan between them.

He left for the house without waiting for an answer, leaving Castiel to deal with Dylan.

He put the groceries on the porch by the door, watching as Castiel petted his dog, which kept on trying to lick his face. He felt a strange ache in his heart as he watched him smile and laugh through Dylan's antics.

He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't keep the knowledge of Castiel's disastrous break up out of his head. Even as he watched him so seemingly cheerful, Dean still felt grief.

He wasn't meant to know that about him. Castiel hadn't told him himself, and he most certainly would be angry if he knew what Dean knew.

He didn't want the burden of knowing something so personal about his seemingly cold-hearted boss, that once loved so dearly and got crushed.

He wanted to be angry again. He wanted to hate him, bitch at him for being an asshole, call him out on his behavior.

But, when Dylan finally let go of his owner, Castiel turned his track towards the house, eyes trained on Dean and he couldn't help but smile.

He looked good.

A little sunburnt, sweat shining on his forehead, chapped lips huffing for breath, sweat stains under his arms. He looked raw. Male. A working man.

"Dylan's fun. He's a good dog." –Dean offered as he came to stand up from the lounge chair he'd been resting on.

"That he is." –Castiel murmured in a deadpan voice.

Dean sighed internally. He was at it again. No emotions, no nothing.

"It's been fun today. Working, getting to know the guys..." –He promised himself he was going to try, so he did.

Castiel gave him a slight look of surprise, like he'd expected Dean to leave right then, but recovered quickly.

"They are good men." –Castiel finally voiced with a noncommittal nod.

"They said the same about you." –Dean spoke with a smile, his voice soft as if to not scare him away.

Castiel's brows furrowed at this, his eyes almost boring into Dean, but he took it without a blink, his smile not faltering.

"That's very generous of them." –He spoke with a gravely tone, disbelief apparent in his words.

"I'm hoping it's true." –Dean said a click of his tongue, giving a playful grin.

When Castiel didn't respond, he decided to cut the man's discomfort short.

"See ya around, boss-man." –With a wave and a smirk he left the stage and made his way to his Impala, feeling a little giddy and a lot anxious.

-/-

The first two weeks of his stay were... admittedly ok.

He could bitch about the cold, restless nights, filled with the sounds of things that go 'bump' in the night. He still didn't feel comfortable in his cabin. It felt, empty in a way, lonely. He didn't know what to do to make it homey, he never really had a home to begin with. He was lost, there.

Working with the guys was fun, though. Every morning they awaited him with coffee, always had something funny to say, business was running smooth...

The weather was awful though. At least, to Dean it was. The nights were icy while the afternoons were California hot. It was hard to adjust his body to the abrupt changes.

And Cas... He was still distant.

Dean would wave at him, or send him a smile, or try to chat him up a bit, and he just shut him down. He wanted to tear his hair out, out of frustration. Or grab Castiel by the shoulders and shake him, shake him until he got _some_ emotion out of him. He would settle for anger, even.

He was trudging around the forest that night, a flashlight he bought at Wal-Mart that kept flickering gripped in his hand, trying to find twigs and wood that he could use to get himself warm. He hadn't been sleeping practically at all ever since he came here, and the men started noticing he'd been less and less concentrated while working, resulting in some mundane mistakes.

He'd never started a fire before, but he'd watched enough western flicks to have the idea. He was a man, goddammit and he was going to grab him some wood, maybe even chop some in the morning, and get a damn fire rolling.

Although, it was hard to feel macho when you started feeling a little lost, losing sense of which direction you came in, not having the idea of how far you actually went into the woods. And then, to make matters worse, he heard a distant uproar of snarling and growling and then, a wail of pain, a shriek and then it was silence.

He stood frozen in place, knee arched in what was supposed to be a step forward and listened in.

Nothing.

A breath of relief or of fear escaped him, and it was then he came to the decision that being a man can wait 'till tomorrow.

He fast-walked into the opposite direction of where he was going, praying this was the way back. This wasn't the ideal time for him to get lost.

Out of nowhere, a rustling sound seemed to close in on him.

Shit, fuck, balls, ass, cock, this wasn't happening!

He wasn't ready for some, freakin' coat wearing freak to come and whip out his cock at him, or for some, grizzly bear to come roaring and shuck his head off.

He didn't even have a gun, a knife, nothing. The flashlight sure as hell wasn't gonna do nothin'.

His feet felt stuck to the crouching ground, knees locked in space. He couldn't move, could only stand and hear as the sound came closer and closer, until he heard four thumps from his right.

He jerked his flashlight towards the sound and saw...

A fucking wolf.

That's his luck, right there, _a fucking wolf was going to eat him. _That's what Dean Winchester's life sums up to. Dying eaten by a wolf.

He could see it in his head.

The newspaper's headline:

'Young, insanely attractive James Dean look-alike, Dean Winchester a sex God by profession, lover of Led Zeppelin, was eaten by a wolf today.'

Yep, that's gonna be it.

But, through his dazed state of fear, horror and mind numbing terror, he didn't notice that there were no more movements.

He blinked himself conscious to see that the wolf, a red wolf to be precise, was lying on the grass clad ground and he was...

Bleeding.

The wolf made a high pitched sound of pain, it's eyes closed, as it's chest rose and fell rapidly. Dean noticed that the wolf was bleeding from his side, somewhere lower around his neck, the dark, red liquid flowing and sticking to it's fur.

Ok, ok, panic mode, engage panic mode.

Dean breathed in and out deeply, mimicking the animal, unable to turn his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

_One last, long sigh..._ Ok, abort panic mode.

It was time to be a man, (what he sat out to be tonight) and make a decision.

Leave the wolf here and let it die, try to forget about it in the morning, file it out as a peculiar event. Or, take it back to the cabin, try to help it out.

Which will it be?

First one was reasonable, also heartless and douchey. Second was morally right, also stupid, reckless, entirely idiotic.

Dean was known for being stupid, reckless and on occasion, entirely idiotic.

So, why the hell not?

He slowly crouched down next to the past out wolf, which made a stirring nose of distress as Dean bent to take him into his arms. Goddammit he was heavy. And bleeding. And this was terrible and terrifying, but fuck it.

-/-

He cant exactly recall how he made it back to his cabin.

Instinct or something, because he clearly wasn't thinking when he decided to take a freakin' wolf back to his place.

He watched with wide eyes as the wolf moaned and snuffed on the wooden flooring, his hands shaking in indecision.

He contemplated calling someone, take it to someone, anyone that wasn't as freaked out as he was.

Cas would probably kill it out of 'mercy', 'end it's pain' or some backwards shit like that.

Ash would think it's cool to skin the wolf and wear it for more 'badassness'. He shuddered at the thought.

Chuck would most likely faint. After, of course he had a stroke.

Adam wasn't even considered. Kid was... He was a kid. Enough said.

The sharp wail of pain is what got him to work.

Bobby! He needed Bobby right now!

Ok, phone it is.

He made the call with trembling fingers, the 'beep beep' seeming to take hours, as the moment seemed drawn on by the urge to do something, now.

"Yeah?" –The uninterested, slightly irritated voice of Bobby felt like angels singing right at the moment.

"Bobby! Bobby, please, I need help!" –He would have thought through those words before he said them, if it wasn't for the current mind-numbing problem.

"Dean, where are ya? Do I need to call the police? Where's Cas?" –Goddamit, Bobby.

"No, it's, I have a wolf here, and, he's hurt, Bobby! Bobby, seriously, I don't know what to do, just, tell me..." –He trailed off uncertainly raising a hand to grip at his hair in frustration.

"Is it a red wolf?" –Bobby asked after a short silence of accompanied rough breathing.

"Yeah, I-uh, I think it is, why the fuck does it matter?" – He knew not to curse with the man, but dammit, why did he have to ask stupid questions at a moment like this. Doesn't matter if it's Chewbacca, he just, needed to help.

"Ok, listen to me boy. You're in Cas' cabin right?" –Bobby's voice turned grave.

"Yeah."

"You search around and find yourself a med-kit. Fast." –Ok, ok, he was doing that.

He held the phone securely in his hand, gripping it as a lifesaver, while he rummaged through every shelf in every room, when finally, fucking finally he found the box pushed at the back in the small closet of his bedroom.

"I got it!" –He breathed into the phone, small triumph evident in his voice.

"Alright, now, listen ta me carefully, and you'll do alright. Alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." –Dean nodded to himself, setting the kit beside the wolf as he squatted beside it on unsteady legs.

"What's wrong with it?"

"He's got a wound, it's bleeding, I-I think it's been ripped." –Dean stuttered into the phone as he bent over the animal to inspect the wounded flesh, seeing the blood still flowing.

"Alright, don't ya go panicking on me, boy. Take the scissors, trim the fur around the wound." –He didn't question it, trusting the words spoke into his ear, and took the scissors, forcing his hand to steady as he carefully snipped the hair.

The wolf seemed to sense something happening, making a high pitched sound which made Dean stop for a second, but only for a second before he continued working.

"I think I got it." –He spoke into the phone, squeezed between his shoulder and ear.

"Now, is it still bleeding?"

"Yes."

"Take the antiseptic, pour some on a clean rag, and clean the wound."

He did as he was told, finding everything ne heeded in the kit. God bless Cas for leaving it here, and God smite his own ass for not bringing one with him.

As he put the rag to the wolf's skin, he was startled into shock by the loud, howling cry of pain, followed by snarling that revealed a set of sharp teeth over dark gums. The wolf's eyes snapped open, meeting his own with startling ice-blue color.

"Dean? Ya there?" –Bobby's voice snapped him out of his stupor, his hand working to clean the torn flesh free of bacteria and infection.

"Yeah, yeah I am. What now?" –His words came out shaky, as the wolf continued staring unblinkingly at him.

"You're gonna need to stich it up. Just, don't be scared and be steady, and you'll get it done, alright?" –Dean knew how to sew a wound, he'd done it to himself and others numerous times by now. But this was, a freakin' wolf here that just regained consciousness and could bite his hand off at any moment.

"Dean, you _need _to do this!" –Dean was shocked by the yelling voice of Bobby, but, nonetheless he complied. A threaded needle in his hand and he got to work.

The wolf was surprisingly quiet as Dean thread through it's skin, joining the ripped flesh together, closing over the open skin. He didn't have time to feel disgusted or grossed out. He was at work here, and he was gonna finish what he started.

"I-I think I'm done!" –Dean sighed in overcoming relief as he finished patching up the wolf, which appeared to be in a state of in-between conscious and unconscious.

"Good job, Dean. Now, cover it up with a gauze and you're done. No need to worry after that." –Bobby's voice rumbled into his ear and he did so, being careful not to tighten it too much over the coarse fur, getting a small huff from the wolf.

"Ok, ok... What do I do know?" –He asked for guidance, not trusting himself to asses the situation.

"Just, take it out on the porch and it'll be gone by morning, I promise."

And after that, as he clicked 'end call' he disconnected with the world, only aware of the amazingly soft quilts he was wrapped in.

-/-

Two days after the... What do you call saving a wolf? Incident? Miracle? Weird ass shit?

Weird ass shit sounds about right.

Two days after the weird ass shit, Dean was doing somewhat ok.

The morning after Dean passed out, the wolf was gone, just as Bobby said.

Which probably meant it was still alive, even though he still felt unsettled.

And then, life just went on.

He didn't dare say anything to the guys at shop.

Because, come on, if that doesn't sound like a freakin' lie, then what does?

How do you explain it without sounding like a lunatic?

'So, hey guys, I just saved a wolf yesterday, pretty badass, am I right, eh?'

Just, no.

So, he continued working, trying to keep his thoughts at bay, concentrating on his greasy hands, keeping up when the guys talked, reminding himself to laugh when appropriate and mind his own business.

He knew they noticed something was off about him, but they didn't approach it. He was glad in a way.

"Hey, have any of you seen Cas?" –Chuck said on their coffee break. Dean was all ears by this point, his mind clear as sky.

"I know, dude, it's weird! Hasn't come out of there in days, man."- Ash supplied, Dean following every word they exchanged with interest.

"I don't like it." –Adam offered with his usual stubborn frown.

Well, this was just what he needed. A distraction.

And so his mind was set.

-/-

He wasn't used to feeling so anxious. He wasn't a thirteen year old girl going on her first date, for Christ's sake. He was an adult who was going to go and bother another adult who happened to be his boss. And, he was going to bring Johnny Walker with him, who is always great company.

He drove back from the liquor store, sliding the car in place beside Castiel's truck.

He let out a breath as he gathered courage to knock on the man's door.

Really, it was ridiculous feeling so nervous over a simple... What the hell was he doing here? Castiel hadn't come out in days, and here he was in front of his door, shuffling his feet in indecision with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Screw it, no more overthinking.

He raised his hand to give a decisive knock when the door creaked open under the sharp thump of his knuckles.

Well, fuck. That was bad.

"Ah, Castiel?" –He snuck his head through the open doorway.

"Cas?" –He raised his voice a bit to call for the other man.

"Fuck..." –He stepped inside on tip of his toes, careful to not make much sound, leaving the clattering bottle by a near table.

Whatever the fuck happened here it wasn't good.

He noted that all the furniture was intact, nothing missing from his brief memory of the house. Still, though, no Cas to be seen.

"Cas!" –He shouted after the brief examination of the house, feeling even more unsettled once he came to the conclusion that there was no break in.

A loud thud was heard from the end of the hallway startling Dean from the previous silence.

He rushed to the door, images of a man in a black ski mask with gloves in disguise a knife in his hand, Castiel tied down to a chair, blood dripping from his brow fled his mind and just as suddenly disappeared as he opened the door.

What awaited behind, was Castiel, or rather Castiel's back, nestled between dark, green sheets, in an awfully cluttered bedroom, a wash cloth spread over his back's naked skin and a bowl with water on the floor beside his outstretched arm.

"Cas..." –Dean sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping as if weight had dropped from him.

"G' away..." –Castiel's voice came muffled from where his face was burrowed into a pillow.

"Your door, it was open."

"Said, _go. Away_." –Castiel deadpanned.

"Cas..." –Dean sighed once more, feeling too troubled for his own good. He just got over the crippling fear that something bad had happened to his boss, and then he sees him there lying limp on his bed, and he won't even talk to him.

He made hesitant steps towards the lying man, wanting to make sense of this situation.

Closer like this he could see that the man's skin was scorched red, the towel draped widely over his skin.

He reached a hand unconsciously, tugging the cloth away, earning him a hiss from the other man.

He gasped at what he revealed.

He only caught a glimpse, before Castiel whiplashed to him, his face a grimace of intense hatred, his hand taking a grip of Dean's t-shirt by the collar.

"Get. The fuck. Away." –Dean shivered at the cold words and colder eyes of Castiel as they bore into him. The hand that clutched at him was veiny with the force it gripped him, his face rolling with sweat and his cheeks damp with... tears.

He doesn't know why did it. He was only dimly aware that it felt right at the moment.

"I wanna help. Please, Cas." –Dean whispered as he smoothened over the knuckles of the hand that held him, his fingers leaving raised goose-bumps over porcelain skin.

Something broke then. The fury in his eyes vanished, to be replaced with a hint of deep sorrow.

"Dean..." –He practically whimpered, begging for something... He wanted Dean to let go, to give up. But, no. He promised himself he wouldn't.

"Just, lay down. Come on..." –He nudged back at the loose hand that wasn't holding on to him anymore, chancing a glance at the man's naked chest before he dropped back onto the bed, back bared to the air.

He leaned over to a crouch beside the bed, inspecting the situation before him.

Castiel's back was blistered red, three long traces of raised tissue, a scar that ran from his shoulders to the base of his boxers, gleaming droplets of sweat gathering around the dip at the small of his back.

He ran a feather light finger over the spine and over the scar, earning him a small hiss, quickly silenced by the pillow.

"This is cold water, Cas. You know that's only gonna make the fever worse." –He said as he dipped a finger into the water basin. It was obvious this was some sort of fever, sweating heavily, burning hot.

He straightened up when he got no response, walking back through the house grabbing a dry towel and the whiskey he left.

He settled on the bed beside the man's sheet covered hips, the strings giving a screech under the pressure of both their bodies.

He took the towel and began cleaning the mess of water and sweat on the man's back.

He couldn't keep his eyes off the scar. His mind raced over possible causes, trying to identify an animal with three claws that could leave such a mark. No luck was found there. The want to ask was strong, but he knew not to push his luck. It was a miracle the man even let him help after the outburst, so he kept quiet as he dried off his skin.

"This is gonna be a bit cold, so don't freak..."- He murmured quietly, afraid he might trigger another reaction from the silent man. Taking the bottle, he unscrewed the cap, pouring the whiskey on his palm, rubbing his hands together and with an audible gulp turned to Castiel.

A shivery gasp escaped from the man in question, his back arching off the bed as Dean laid his hands on the fiery skin.

His heart was thumping an erratic beat at the sight before him and the feeling under his hands.

He slowly dragged his palms around the scars, afraid he might hurt him, letting the flesh slip between his fingers as he made his way to the man's shoulders.

"Does... Does the scar hurt?" –He cursed himself for how croaky his voice came out.

"No." –Came the muffled voice of Castiel.

Dean kept quiet as he kneaded the skin of Castiel's back, switching between pouring more whiskey and rubbing the alcohol onto his back.

"I used to do this all the time for Sam. Back when he was still Sammy, my little brother..." –Dean spoke quietly into the heavy silence. The feeling of the strong muscles dipping under his palms, the delicate line of spine that ended hidden behind black boxers, the smell of sweat in the air had him dazed, and dammit if it didn't have an effect on him. He felt the want to settle more freely on the bed, straddle the man on either side of his hips, run his hands through the unveiled body. But, he knew too well where he was and who he was with. Didn't stop his mind from wandering.

"I remember one time, when he was... He was at a friend's house, and he came home and he was sick. I yelled at him for a good half hour. I didn't even register how bad his fever was until he collapsed on me. Never been so scared in my life..." –The words felt like a sin spoken into the confines of a confessional.

"I felt terrible..." –His voice trailed away as he concentrated on massaging the man before him.

"Why are you telling me this?"-Castiel said in a scratchy voice, turning his head to give him a glint of his blue eyes.

Dean didn't know how to respond.

He knew that he was feeling too overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts, so the talking was his way of concentrating. Why did he choose to voice the more intimate experience of his life, he didn't know.

"I don't know." –And he said as much.

Castiel seemed to squint his eyes, before he shuffled his head back to nestle into the pillow.

Dean finished his job as a masseuse, whilst pulling the sheets and blankets over the sore and shivering body of the soundless man, standing up to make his leave.

He knew he was supposed to just, turn out the lights and wish the man well, exit out of his bedroom and out of his home, go back to his car and drive back to his cabin. He knew this.

It didn't stop him from doing what he did next.

He dipped his head quickly to give the mop of black, damp hair a kiss.

"Get well, soon." –He made his way out in a rush of shuffling feet, before he could give the man the time to react.

In his haste he missed the matching blush on his boss' face.

* * *

Guys, guys, I just finished watching the last freakin' episode, guys, you guys...

ALL OF MY FEEEEEELS!

I CANNOT COMPREHEND MY FEELS!

All i Know is I am feeling super excited for next season and can't wait to see what's going on, and hopefully it will be awesome, and dammit I can just feel how awesome it's gonna be and Jimmy Carver is back, and that's total awesomeness and its just so mathematical, and unghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

In the meantime have part of a long ass fic I've been writing.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean couldn't sleep.

Big surprise there.

It wasn't the cold that was keeping him up that night, nor the sounds of the forest.

His body thrummed with energy, his skin flushed with warmth. The night was soundless, not a chirp or a squeak.

Instead, his nagging brain kept him awake.

He was flooded with thoughts concerning the events of the day.

The image of Castiel, bare for his hands to touch, the anger he witnessed on his face, the sheer strength in his grip, the three long lines of scarred tissue over his porcelain back, a stark opposite from the tanned skin on his arms.

And the... The kiss he left him with.

He wanted to beat himself dead about that stupidity.

The man was finally, fucking finally letting him somewhat closer to him, and he blew it. He had to take things over the top, he just had to screw it all up.

That's what he did now, didn't he?

He screwed his brother in bringing him up, he screwed his father in being a good son, and he screwed Bobby, who left him here like extra baggage.

He was a screw up from birth.

He wasn't even going to think about his mother.

There was too much self-loathing over there.

Instead, he clenched his eyes shut, forcing all thought to wait till the morning. Or at least, he tried.

Instead, all of that heat and pent up frustration went down south.

He groaned into his pillow, mad at himself, mad at the world.

It was his own fault, really.

All of those cold nights and busy days lead to no alone time.

Guiltily, he reached a hand over his tented sweatpants, massaging himself there.

This is where internet and Sam's laptop would come in handy. He flooded his mind with all the memorable images of porn he'd seen, of all the memorable conquests he'd had. Busty Asian beauties weren't doing it. All of those perky tits, and pink pussies he'd had weren't doing it either.

Instead he thought of the last man he'd been with it, months ago, but it seemed so fresh in his mind.

He released his cock from his boxers, giving it a firm grip as he let his eyes slip closed to concentrate on getting himself off.

He remembers the guy was big, bigger than him which was why he was surprised when the guy wanted Dean to fuck him. He remembers dark skin, and gelled up blond hair, crispy shaven chest and face...

His brows doubled over.

This wasn't getting him off at all.

Instead the guy should have lighter skin. And dark, mussed up hair. A little stubble to go with hairy arms and hairy legs...

His hand picked up the pace as he brought himself closer.

He should definitely be smaller than him. Well, lighter, but well toned.

Yeah, that was doing it.

A fat cock to wrap his lips around it...

Maybe even, fuck himself with it.

A shiver traveled through him at that thought. Yeah, like the times he'd fucked men. Maybe somebody could do him for a change. Let him ride it out, feel himself being full, clench around the man's cock...

He let his imagination go wild, his restrictions gone, picturing himself bobbing on a cock, taking it, filling him up.

Add a growly voice that would mutter obscenities into his ear...

A strong hand that would grip his hair as he fucked him from behind.

And when he'd turn his head around to kiss at those soft, chapped lips, blue eyes glazed over with lust would greet him there.

And with that last thought he came hard, a whole body shudder following suite and a moan to rival the wolves howling.

He slumped his arched back on the bed, curled himself tightly as if to conceal any traces of the shameful event that occurred.

He couldn't sleep at all that night.

-/-

The next day fell heavily over Dean, much in the same way the raindrops thumped over his leather jacket.

The day passed much in the same gloomy matter.

The whole way, Dean felt like he had a personal black cloud perched over his head, cracking thunder and lightning.

He wasn't made for this, the only thing he wanted right now was go to a local bar, get wasted, drink away his problems and worries.

A bottle of whiskey, and there would be no clunking tools under a hood of a car, no grease on his hands, no Castiel to frustrate him, no libido to take advantage of his thoughts.

But, no, not in this Godforsaken place, where putting a garage in the middle of the forest runs good business, but getting a bar would be out of style.

And yep, Castiel hadn't come out that day too.

Fuck him, fuck this place, fuck this job.

And just like that, he made the decision.

Tonight he was getting drunk. Drunk out of his mind, 'I'm a great singer/dancer/stripper' drunk.

And he was gonna do it alone. Yep, alone. Sure's gonna be fun...

And just when he was ready to open up that flood of self-loathing, Adam appeared next to him.

"Hey, Dean. What are you working on?"-The boy spoke with forced nonchalance. He could tell Adam wanted something. But, he was willing to play along.

"Carburetor. Truck won't idle. Pretty standard problem."- He said easily, eyes concentrated on the work in front of him, hand around a screwdriver.

"Getting started, huh?" –Adam quipped at his side, nodding along to Dean's words.

"Yep. Just getting started. What's on your mind, kid?"-Dean would play along, but he was feeling pretty edgy, and right now he was bad company for anyone. Cas included. Hell, he would probably cuss the guy till' next Sunday. No reason in particular for it, just frustration.

"I'm 18, Dean." –Trust Adam to find something to be angry about. Trust him. Hell, trust any teenager for that matter.

"Sure you are. Now talk."- Dean finally turned to look at him, and there he was, 'nervous' written all over the boy's face and posture.

"Hey, just spit it out. Been having a rough day is all." –And now was Dean's turn to feel like a jackass. 'Sure, Dean, yeah. Go and make a drop out with daddy issues feel like a burden, go right ahead. You know how that feels, you know what it did to you, why not spread it around?'

"S'okay. We all get days like those. I just wanted to ask you something, something you said you'd do, but I get that you're not in the mood. Forget about it, it's no problem." –Adam mumbled quickly, ready to take off. But, it was a problem. Kid's can't lie and neither could Adam. He was an open book, and 'uncomfortable, let down and angst' were written in big bold letters.

"Adam wait."- Dean threw a hand over the boy's shoulder making him take a sharp turn towards him. He sighed tiredly and looked into unsure blue eyes.

"Listen. I'm sorry, ok. I get that I'm an ass, and I'm sorry. So, just tell me what you need." –He gave a smile he thought was encouraging, giving the boy's shoulder a grip.

"It's just that... You said you'd help me with, with studying and I was thinking maybe..." –Adam babbled the words. It was obvious he wasn't used to this, asking for help and all. It made Dean's smile turn honest. He knew being a teenager and thinking you could do everything on your own. And he knew how to cut the boy's discomfort short.

"Say no more. Tonight, come to my cabin, bring your books and all and we'll work it out, ok?"-Dean said with confidence, tilting his head downwards to meet the boy eye to eye.

"Yeah, sure. I've been there before, when Cas still lived there."- Again, somehow Cas just has to be mentioned. But, Adam sounded hopeful, and it felt good to be able to bring that out in somebody. He could be nice to Cas all he wanted, and the man would always shut him off. But, Adam was beaming here, in his own 'I'm a teenager, so I'll try not to look so happy' kind of way.

"See you tonight then."

"Sure. Thanks, Dean."- Adam gave a smile and turned to leave him to his work.

"Hey, uh, Adam?"- Dean suddenly remembered a promise he'd made to himself.

"Yeah?"- The boy turned once again.

"Do you drink? I mean like, not heavily just, sometimes, you know?" –Yep, there goes 'the ass' again. Can't even formulate a sentence right.

"Yeah, with the guys here. Sometimes."- Adam nodded along, and his smile seemed to stretch on and on, like he knew what was coming.

"Cas doesn't have a problem with it?" –Yep, Cas again. Can't seem to hold a conversation without his name being mandatory.

"Nope. As long as I'm with them, and not out drinking with strangers, they're cool. You're cool, too." –He added with a hopeful tone, as if to persuade him.

"No one likes a kissass, Adam." –Dean mocked, giving him a playful smile.

"Sure, alright. Sooo, I'll see ya?" –The tone he used indicated a 'soooo, we drinkin'?'

"You'll see me."-Dean mockingly shook his head in defeat.

"Awesome"-And with that Adam run off, a giddiness to his steps.

The rain still fell heavily, thumping over the garage's roof, but Dean had a good feeling. Maybe, he could forget about things tonight. Just, hang out and help a friend.

Something normal and boring for a change.

-/-

"Ok, well, this is a load of bullshit..."- Dean mumbled as he flipped pages in Adam's math book.

They were sitting on his bed, for practicality's purpose. Kitchen's table was too small for all the books and space they'd need, plus he had only one chair.

Adam came in somewhere around 8, backpack hanging on one shoulder and a bag of six-pack, looking meek under the porch's lamp. Dean couldn't help but laugh at the sight that greeted him there. Books and beers? Hell of a way to go to class.

They quickly shuffled their way around the house, wondering where to make camp, and decided the bed was big enough.

Two cans into math class and they were down to trigonometry.

"Alright, look here." –Dean finally gave up on the textbook and resulted to explaining it himself.

"So, they are most likely to give you a simple example like this to work on."-He turned to Adam with the drawing of a right isosceles triangle.

"You got your A, B and C angle. We're not touching angle C, so we're gonna concentrate on the other two." –He turned his eyes to Adam who nodded along to his words, craning his neck to see down the notebook.

"First is the sine function. Sin A would be ratio of the opposite side and the hypotenuse. Which would be..." –He awaited Adam's answer.

"Opposite would be, uh, a?" He drew his eyebrows together in effort, his voice still unsure.

Dean came to understand that Adam was smart, most of the things they went over he already knew, just had to be given a push. He needed someone to make him think.

"Yep, which leaves c, as the hypotenuse. Write it down for me." –Dean said with a smile, making Adam smile too.

An hour into studying and drinking things went pretty smooth. Adam would stumble here and there, but Dean made sure to get him back on track, set his trail of thought straight.

With the six pack gone their minds were too exhausted to continue working and just the right amount of drunk to just lay down and make unrelated conversation.

Dean's upper body was laid over the wall against the bed, his limbs splayed out carelessly over the rumpled blankets, smoking a cigarette and staring out in front of him, not seeing anything in particular. Adam lay languidly on the bed, his head nestled into the pillow, small frame huddled in one of Dean's hoodies. The night was biting cold, and he'd seen how Adam shook earlier no matter how much he'd try to cover it. At first, he wondered if the boy just had to pee and was too embarrassed to say so, but then he'd noticed his rosy cheeks and pale arms. Dean himself was only wearing a t-shirt, but he knew alcohol made him warm. It was then he remembered that Adam was still a kid and not an experienced alcohol consumer, and he could be doing a really better job at being a teacher here.

Apparently, Adam was further down the line from buzzed to tipsy. A fair share of guilt creeped up on Dean as he noticed the boy's glassy eyes and slumped head but, he wasn't doing anything stupid. He was just lying in bed with him after they studied. So, in a way, it's as if he'd earned the right to be drunk. Or so he kept telling himself.

"Can I have a smoke?" –Adam's voice cut his dazed state.

"What?"- Dean turned to him with the most baffled expression he could muster.

"A cigarette. Can I have one?"-Adam explained in his usual pissy voice.

"You're pushing it, you know that?"- Dean gave him a look of 'tsk, tsk' and settled back to stare at the opposite wall.

"Come on, just a drag. And don't give me that bullshit, 'you're gonna get addicted by one smoke, statistics prove it' type of crap."- Adam rambled the words, leaning his head more towards Dean's thigh to look up at him.

"You're right. That _is_ bullshit. Doesn't mean I'm teaching you how to smoke." –He said conclusively, and gave himself a nod at how right the decision was. Hell, he'd give himself a slap on the back.

"Come on, someone taught _you_ how to smoke. You were probably my age, too."- Adam kept on pushing, his voice turning a dangerously whiny tone, one Dean wasn't gonna take.

"Right on both occasions. That someone was my dad, and age was 14. Been regretting it ever since." –Dean blew the gushing smoke through his lips, stopping to make three thick circles flow through the suddenly heavy air.

"Sorry..."- Adam offered quietly in a stilted voice.

"No need to be sorry for my drunk of a father, or his soon-to-be a drunk son."- Spite laced his words, a sudden rush of long forgotten memories reaching out for him, like clawed hands in a horror movie. He was called back to a time where he was everything he hated being. Small, vulnerable, gullible, frightened, and _weak._ Weak was what he hated most.

That feeling, no, that _knowing_ that you can't do anything about your situation, that you can't help your brother, that you can't help your father, that you _couldn't'_ help your mother.

It was the wrong time, the wrong place to be having those thoughts, he knew this, yet he couldn't stop his mind.

"Don't talk about yourself like that..."- Came Adam's soft and unsure voice. He chanced a glance downwards where the boy was nestled and found green eyes laced with care. God, you gotta love kids. Sure, they can be hardballs, but they're more sincere than your average adult.

"Sure... Hey, ain't it time for you to be sleepin'? You gotta wake up early tomorrow, make sure you study before your test, you know."-Dean quickly changed the subject, feeling uncomfortable with himself.

"Cas gave me the day off, he knows I have to pass math. No hurry there."- Adam said with a smug smile.

Cas again...

"Don't be stupid, you laze off here tonight, tomorrow'll be hell for you. Get up, I'm taking you home."-Dean gave Adam a playful push away from his leg, making to stand up.

"Dean..."

"_No whining_. Come on!"- He tugged on Adam's ankle making the boy laugh and trash on the bed. Dean felt a sincere smile stretch his lip, as he plunged down to wrestle the boy off the bed, causing Adam to burst into giggles.

He reminisced on all the past roughhousing with Sam, when he was still Sammy, just a little boy with floppy brown hair and a happy glint in his eyes. How he could just throw him around, hold him by his ankles and pretend to mop the floor with him. Sam especially laughed on that one...

The same Sam, who was now in college, Stanford, aspiring to become a lawyer, who left him and his father with a snarl and a promise to never come back. Who didn't pick up when Dean called. Whose last words to him were 'Dad will leave you Dean, like he's always left, but this time he won't come back. And you won't know who you are without him, because all you ever tried to be was him."

Funny thing is he was right.

"Dean?"- Dean fluttered his eyelids, trying to blink away the oncoming thoughts. He looked downwards and realized he must have shut himself off, seeing Adam's face alight with worry, his arms on either side of the boy.

"I'm ok. Sorry."- He mumbled quickly, pushed himself off and laid next to Adam, catching his breath from their make-believe fight.

"You have a lot on your mind, huh?"- Adam said in the tense silence, giving a forced chuckle.

"Yeah. You can say that. Come on."

-/-

He was pulling up to his cabin after he'd brought Adam home.

Turns out, Adam was renting a room with a family Cas knew. Pretty decent fellows, a woman, Ellen to be precise and her daughter Jo. They even waited up for him, which was a surprise.

Ellen seemed kinda strict, even gave him a good grilling. Sure, he could understand her concerns on a certain level, he was new in town after all. And her daughter too, she was pretty, but she took her attitude from her mother, obviously.

'Where do you live?'

'Oh, you know Cas! _How _do you know Cas?'

'Oh you work for him! _What_ do you do for him?'

'Oh, you fix cars! _What_ kind of cars?'

Everything has its boundaries, and they crossed over from curious to loony.

And that Cas...

They talked about him like he was some kind of special flower that they personally planted.

Heck, everyone talked about him like he was something precious.

Why was he so important to others?

But, no. He _knew_ why he was important to others. They freakin' told him why.

No, the question was, why couldn't he be important to Dean.

What was holding him back? Why was he so hostile?

He sat like that in his car for a while, his cassettes playing away Led Zeppelin, just thinking things over.

He knew he had a thing for the man. Still, it was hard to admit it, but he knew.

He also knew it was hopeless and stupid. Getting the hots for your boss? Not the smartest thing to do.

Getting the hots for a man that won't even look at you and tries to push you away in every way imaginable? The stupidest thing to do.

But, there was a certain attraction to that, kind of like a challenge. Like fighting for it. Or like, earning the right to have that person, to be had...

It had an appeal, that's for sure. Someone that wouldn't just fall into his arms on command, someone that wouldn't be persuaded into bed with a simple wink. Someone more than that.

He'd had enough of his thoughts and turned off his cassette player, making it go out of the car and maybe get himself some sleep. He'd had a goodnight and he didn't want to waste it on thoughts and urges he couldn't control.

And just as he opened the door he realized that there were a lot of things he couldn't control.

Like the wolf that was standing by his porch.

Dean shuck a sharp breath and it fell almost painfully into his chest. He sat in his car on locked feet, a hand gripping the car door with strength he didn't knew he possessed, one leg out on the ground and his eyes blown wide in fright.

He sat like that for what could have been seconds or hours, just watching and breathing.

It was a red wolf, or, if he remembered clearly enough it was _the_ red wolf. That little piece of logic he could muster right now said it was. How else would it know where to go, and why did it just stood watching him?

Well, if he didn't finish the job before, he came back for that, right? So.

"Ok, ok. Fine!"- Dean pushed himself off his seat and slammed the car door back, his eyes still trained on the wolf. Sure, he was slightly buzzed, well, more so than buzzed, and that might explain why the stupid decision all of a sudden, but hell.

"Go ahead, eat me. Nobody's gonna miss me anyway."- He spoke to the sky as he laid himself down on the grass clad ground, spreading his limbs far and wide.

Just then he realized how annoying crickets can be.

"Come one! What are you waiting for? I fix you up, and you come back to kill me. That's life now ain't it?"- Dean said through gritted teeth, his eyes still open and wide with anger.

A faint shuffling was heard from his side, and when he turned his head towards the sound he found the wolf walking towards him languidly, until it stopped just short of him and sat down.

Just, freakin' sat on his ass, tilting his head like Dean was the weird one.

"What? I'm not tasty enough now?"- Dean spoke to the wolf, a need to just get his words out, just to check if this was real life or if he were dreaming.

A kind of bark escaped the wolf, something that might have been a laugh under different circumstances, its sharp teeth giving a gleam into the dark night, and just as suddenly disappearing.

"I got a wolf laughing at me now, huh? Hell, wouldn't blame ya. I got alcohol in my veins, blood in my eyes, more fat than muscle, daddy problems, a missing brother and a crush on my boss. How's that for edible?"- He turned his eyes back to the sky, feeling void of humor.

That bark of laughter was back again, followed by more shuffling noise that seemed to go opposite of him. Dean turned his head again, his brows doubled over to see the wolf apparently just... Walking away.

Just, had its laugh, and went frolicking in the forest. Yup, even wolves got bored with him.

He braced himself on his hands and stood up, his back aching from laying on the hard, cold ground. He made to brush himself off, stray pebbles and twigs falling from his jacket.

Well, how's that for a weird.

-/-

Working the next day was, mildly said, difficult. He'd had these days more often than not.

Adam wasn't there to cheer him up, studying up for his exam tonight. Ash and Chuck proved to be more difficult to handle without Adam to turn to and laugh at the both of them. Suddenly, he was at their center of attention, and that kinda tough to deal with. They were nice guys, but hell, could they be annoying.

Dean had enough on his mind, what with the wolf last night and everything else that's going on in the meantime, and having to cater to Ash and Chuck's questions and curiosities wasn't on his to-do-list for the day. Maybe it was them, maybe it was him, maybe it was just a general asshole kind of day. Who knows.

But, Ash knew that he'd been drinking last night, and Ash just, _had _to know what he'd been up to last night, and with _who._ He couldn't blame Chuck, who himself were an alcoholic, and probably knew all the tell-tale signs of the morning after, but Ash... You just can't explain that you were with Adam studying, because that would probably look like the biggest lie. It w_as_ the truth, but his looks were a product of his short meeting with the wolf, and his later drinking himself to sleep with whiskey rather than the regular beer he had with Adam.

If he _did_ tell them, and if they _did _believe him, they'd probably think he got the boy dead wasted, and that he was probably gonna do shit on his exam because Dean got him drunk. And if he _did_ tell them it was actually later that he saw a wolf that he'd previously saved, and got all the way drunk by _himself, _then they'd probably drag him out to the nearest loony-ville. So, you can probably see where his frustration was coming from.

Even now, working under a car, he couldn't get his thoughts in order. The best way to deal with life's problems, next to fucking himself dry ( which was not happening under certain circumstances) and drinking himself dumb ( which has already happened under strange circumstances) was fixing up his Impala ( which was now an old Toyota truck). He liked to think of it as meditation for the unenlightened man.

But even then, his bloodshot eyes straining to see better, pits soaked with sweat, hands working a wrench with shaky force he couldn't concentrate. And just when he'd thought he could get the hang out of it, he just had to screw it up.

"Dean."- That voice and, bang! Pulled the wrench too hard, too fast, too something, and got himself an exhaust pipe hole. Hole that showered him with dark, gooey oil.

"God, fucking dammit, shit!"- He spat the words, as he quickly pulled himself out from under the car, grabbing for his shirt to wipe his face off, only realizing that he's making the mess worse.

"Fuck, you stupid motherfucker, stupid sonofabitch, Dean!"- He cursed himself, wishing to damn hell that he could just die, die at this moment, for being so, so stupid, wishing his mother had never even given birth to him, wishing that-

"Dean? Dean, stop it. Dean!"- He felt him before he heard him. Gentle hands that snuck up to hold his cheeks as he buried his face in the dirt of his shirt, too embarrassed to control himself, too embarrassed to catch the man's blue eyes as they looked at him with pity. Pity for the daddy-problem that got dumped to him, to be given a home by him, to be given a job by him. Pity he couldn't handle right now.

"Look at me. I said, look at me!"- The tone of command in his voice basically d_ared_ you to not obey.

He raised his head from where it was huddled into his shirt and immediately turned to look the other way, his breath hitching in what he feared were to become sobs. That was something he couldn't allow himself. Though he did know, he looked like shit, eyes red, face and hair greased with oil, looking away like a child ready to be scolded for playing around in the mud. He also knew the kind of childhood _he_ had, and he expected everything, from being fired to a punch in the face for screwing up the car.

He didn't get neither though.

"Come on."- The hands at his face left and instead grabbed at his arm to be led towards a desk, cluttered with tools and parts.

"Sit up here."- Castiel spoke as he pushed away some of the mess, making a clearing for him. Dean felt his breath hitch more and more at what he was seeing.

"I said sit." –The sharp look took him by surprise, forgetting to avoid the man's eyes. He was like a medusa, only his eyes didn't turn you into stone, rather turned you into a must-obey robot.

He quickly staggered up on the desk, feeling more and more like a child by the minute. And with feeling like a child came feeling powerless.

"Stay here."- Castiel said as he opened one of the drawers to come up with a clean towel. Dean shut his eyes again, taking the advantage of hearing Castiel moving about the room. He felt too overwhelmed to stand life right then.

He felt that warmth again, a hand cupping his cheeks gently, and he absently thought how Cas would get his hands dirty, and he hated himself instantly for getting the man's porcelain, delicate hands dirty with that muck on his face. Dirt was reserved to be on dirt, and Castiel wasn't it.

"Stop it..."- Dean breathed out the words in a whisper, feeling something cold and rough run through his other cheek. His eyes flared open on the feeling and looked over to see that Castiel was using that same towel, now wet with water to clean him up, and didn't he feel like the biggest baby ever, already on the verge of crying.

"Cas..."- Dean gave another hopeless try at getting the man to stop, just stop being so good to him, that was the last thing he needed right now.

"Don't, Dean."- Again, the demand in his voice was clear enough, and Dean couldn't help but keep his mouth shut as the other man worked on getting him clean.

"All done."- Castiel said as he ran the towel through his hair roughly, basically giving him a noogie, making him give a silent 'ow'.

He raised his head slowly, finding Castiel with his hands trained on his shirt, unbuttoning one after one.

"Cas! Cas, seriously, don't, you're... I'm not, charity, not, you can't..."- Dean stumbled through his words, feeling himself choke in trying to convey his thoughts as best as he could, and failing miserably.

"You're my employee Dean, and you will do what I damn say you will. And you will wear this shirt."- He said as calmly as if they were discussing the weather, handing him the plaid shirt, while he remained in a simple black t-shirt.

"Cas, please..."- He didn't really know what he was asking for, he just knew he needed this to stop.

"If you won't take your shirt of, then I will, and believe me, I _will_."- Castiel gave him such a glare, full of absolute promise to go through with it that he couldn't help but give an audible gulp. He took his shirt in his hands and quickly pulled it off, feeling more embarrassed than he had in a long time, and dammit, he could feel his blush spreading from his cheeks to his neck and down to his chest. He knew he looked awful, he knew that he smelled awful, he knew he had oil on his chest, he knew his stomach looked swollen from all the beer yesterday and he knew he was pathetic.

Still, he took the offered shirt, just hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible, hoping to spare himself further embarrassment. And the possibility of further embarrassment was likely, that is to say if Castiel decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

Even though it still looked big on the other man's form, it was still small for Dean, seeing as he was unable to button it up. He finally gave up with a tired sigh, looking down at his belly and the open labels on either side. He just wanted to be done, done with everything, and go back to his cabin and sleep for weeks, just enough to forget this whole ordeal had ever happened.

"It's fine, just until you get yourself home."- Castiel broke the tense silence, seeing that clearly, the buttons and Dean's belly weren't cooperating.

Dean gave a vague nod, not lifting his head from where it was concentrated on his treasure trail. And wasn't that even more embarrassing?

"Dean."- Again, his name in that voice, through those lips... And again, that hand sneaking up under his chin, so different than his own hands, none of that rough skin and dirty fingernails, but clean, delicate and so soft...

"Look at me, Dean."-He did, knowing that he couldn't resist him. And God, those eyes. He'd never seen another person, man or woman with those kinds of eyes. He had constant bedroom eyes, a look that always takes to dark nights and hushed words.

"Dean, are you, are you unhappy here?"- His eyes grew wide at the spoken words. He knew this was coming, but he hoped it wasn't true, he hoped that there could be more here for him, but it came, nonetheless.

"Please don't fire me, Cas. Please, I-I like it here, I know I've been havin' some trouble, and I'm sorry I messed up back there, but please, Cas, I need this, and I _know_ I can do better, just, _please _don't fire me."- Dean knew when to let go of his pride, and this was it. He wasn't a man used to using the word 'please' but he had, and right then it had to be said. This wasn't just a job to him, not anymore. He had people he could trust. He had Ash and Chuck who were two of the most annoying fucks ever, who were also great friends and took him under their wings to make sure he got settled in good. He had Adam, who he just _had_ to take care of, who was gonna do great things, if only Dean could be there to lead him. And then there was Cas. Who he _wanted_ to have more than anything. And he wanted to _be_ had by him.

"Dean, I'm not firing you."- He said with such blunt obviousness, like it was the last thing on his mind. Dean's breath caught in his throat.

"I'm asking because... I'm sorry, but, it's clear you've been drinking.- Castiel gave a small, not-quite-there smile before he continued. –And, I need you to know that this is not a prison. That, if you're not comfortable here, you can leave. I'm not saying that I want you gone. You're doing a good job here for everyone, Ash and Chuck have only praise for you, and Adam calls you 'awesome'. I just, wanted to tell you that you have options and choices. That's all. " –He finished with another stretch of lips, a kind of soft, soothing smile.

Dean felt that clench in his throat again, and realized just how he'd been taking things for granted. Which is why he took the moment to speak clearly.

"Thank you, Cas. For everything. And I mean it, just, thank you. Really. " –He could feel embarrassed for the choked off tone in his voice, but he quickly dismissed the feeling. The man deserved to have his honesty.

Castiel gave him that half-smile again, and the man should really smile more.

"You know, when you go back to the cabin, there are some books I've left there under the bed. When I would read there, I would just push them under the bed until next night. It's mostly old copies I don't need anymore, but, you might find something of interest there."- The words were clearly a change of topic, but Dean went with it.

"Yeah, sure. I'll check them out."- Dean gave him a nod and a genuine smile.

"But first, clean that mess off."- Castiel jerked his head to the battered truck, and Dean just had to laugh.

**To anyone who still waits on the other stories, I will get there, I'm just not _right_ there with them. Still, safety and peace to all. **


End file.
